


Slipcast

by archerkink (runawaygirl)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 17:42:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/942794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runawaygirl/pseuds/archerkink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>slipcast; n. the default expression that your face automatically reverts to when idle—amused, melancholic, pissed off—which occurs when a strong emotion gets buried and forgotten in the psychological laundry of everyday life, leaving you wearing an unintentional vibe of pink or blue or gray, or in rare cases, a tie-dye of sheer madness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipcast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wisia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/gifts).



> Dedicated to Wisia.

Tim recognises when his morale is weak. He's been able to tell since he was young, really, that he was treading dangerous waters and needed a pick me up. He could trace these back to days when he was a little kid with a camera, and an obsession that spanned from his toddler days to his early teens. It used to be that the very thought of getting a photo of his idols could pry him from his bed, after his parents couldn't make it home for his birthday (again.)

When he was Robin, he would meditate on bad nights. Usually, it calmed him down. Made this problems seem smaller, different, gave him perspective. On bad nights, when he couldn't talk to anyone at home or Batman, he'd talk to Steph. She'd let him complain, then berate him for it playfully, and they'd take the night by the scruff. He'd had the titans, too.

Afterwards- when everything that could possibly go wrong, went wrong- he swallowed whatever residues of anxiety he had, and called Dick when he was feeling down. He never felt ignored when he went to Dick for advice, reassurance or just conversation. 

And after that- when Robin wasn't his any more and-

Tim recognises when his morale is weak, and it's been pretty weak during the past month or so. He's been down, and-

He isn't certain he's entirely welcome at the manor at the moment, especially after Harkness-

No. He's here to talk to Dick, not Bruce. And if he can avoid Damian for the duration of the visit, great. Of course, with his luck lately-

"What are _you_ doing here, Drake?"

Tim purses his lips. "Hello to you, too." he says coolly. "Seen Dick?"

"I don't know why you keep showing up," The brat ignores him. "You're neither wanted nor needed here." He sneers at the twitch in Tim's lip. "How unfortunate. You couldn't avenge one father, and the other has already washed his hands of you,"

"The emancipation was my idea." Tim growls, then stops himself. He isn't here for this, he needs to find Dick-

"And he let you do it, Drake. He wouldn't have asked Grayson to do it." 

That- chills Tim to the bone. It'd be unfathomable for Bruce to ask Dick for something like this, and while he always knew--it's only really hits him at a conscious level. Why else would Bruce adopt him, if it didn't serve some kind of future purpose?

Tim feels ill, and his legs feel like they're about to give way any second. He doesn't give Damian the satisfaction of seeing him wobble, though. He turns to leave, and-

"Of course, Grayson would probably have made Father make you do it instead-"

And that sends his fist forward to collide with Damian's jaw-

They roll on the floor and scuffle a bit before a strong pair of arms pull him up. "That's enough." And that's Bruce's Batman voice. 

Dick has Damian pulled aside and is examining his jaw. There'll be a bruise for certain, and Tim is fairly sure one of Damian's kicks did something to ribs. Then Dick looks up, and Tim has just enough time to be shocked by his glare before glaring back. 

"Tim, for god's sake, you need to learn to control-" He cuts Bruce off with a practised jab with his elbow, then uses all the strength he has to sprint out of the manor.

It isn't fair-

It isn't  _fair_ -

Dick had never looked at him like that before-

Tim needs to talk to someone. His morale is low, weak, and all but kicked to the curb. He'd rather think about the consequences later. Right now, he just-

He needs someone on his _side_.

\---

Patrol began and ended with rain. There's been a torrent of miserable weather lately, but nothing so severe that Cass has had reason to forego her nightly patrols. Plus, being soaked to the bone meant her hours-long bathing sessions were all the more relaxing.

She considers cleaning the studio apartment Bruce had gifted her with, and promptly drops the idea. She'll gather up the piles of dirty laundry and shove them into the washing machine later. There's leftovers in the fridge and tea-

God, tea sounded great right about now.

Cass likes living on her own. She likes having a place that is hers, and essentially 'Cass'. But sometimes she misses Gotham.

She misses Alfred. Misses coming home to somewhere pristine, and having her sheets lemon scented. She makes certain to keep the dirty clothes from piling up, but dusting and sweeping and ironing? Failed forays into housekeeping mostly. 

She misses Steph and their patrols. How they were their own Batman and Robin, their extended games of rooftop tag, and how Steph's body would just radiate joy and thrill. She misses when Steph would talk to her about little problems she had, home problem, school problems, boy problems. She misses the genuine gratitude in her smile when Cass listened patiently. She misses joking about awful fathers.

She misses Dick, too. All loyalty, and family and solidarity. Dick was never meant to be alone. She misses how he'd be happy to see her, no matter the circumstances. She misses the hugs, the playful scuffling of her hair, the animated way he'd read her stories. She misses being his 'little sister'

She misses Barbara because she was secure. Cass doesn't know anyone has sure of herself as Barbara, as full of purpose as her. Cass was safe in the Watchtower with her, and she exuded concern and control. She made certain Cass was at her best, not for any sort of misplaced loyalty to mantle of Batgirl, but to Cass herself. She was essentially the first person to see 'Cass', not a fighter or an assassin. She's the closest thing Cass had to a mother.

She misses Bruce because Bruce was--her father. Nothing more, nothing less. He was uncertain of a lot of things, but- He always felt a sense of relief when Batgirl accompanied him. He loved her, and she knew he did. She didn't need any sort of coaxing or cajoling. It made it easier for Bruce to give her those smiles, that hand on her shoulder, that relieved look that said 'I'm glad you're here with me.' He didn't feel pressured to reassure her because, well, she already knew.

The only one she didn't miss was Tim, because Tim did everything he could to make sure he _wasn't_ missed.

A e-mail every second day, concerning what was occurring in Gotham, as well updates to cases she was working on or considering. He'd sent her books he'd thought she'd be interested in, and cards on holidays, along with presents and sometimes text messages and calls. Every underlying message is the same.

'I miss you,'

Because Tim fluctuates from being certain of his role in the family, to being terribly insecure. He's better when he talks about what bothers him, but-She'd watched him shoulder it all, the year everything went to hell, and then, last she heard, he was doing crazy, unpredictable things with the League of Assassins. 

Cass sighs. The water in her bath was starting to get cold, so she draws herself up and shrugs on a pair of pants and an old shirt that she'd pilfered from Babs. She doesn't bother draining the bath and considers, for the umpteenth time, to drag the television set into the bathroom to make her obscenely long baths longer.

There's a knock.

She stops. There's never a knock. She's on her own here, and made sure to keep it that way. She hasn't needed to use the cameras Bruce insisted upon setting up on the porch. The feed only shows below, however, in her own personal cave.

Against the Bat's teachings, she opens the door. She's Blackbat, if she can't handle a stranger at her door, she doubts even Batman himself can. Only, it isn't a stranger so much as it is a kid in a soaking wet hoodie. One with sad eyes and a worried brow and pallid skin, and a mouth that says 'help me' even when he just tries to smile and says 'Cass'-

She pulls him into her house, and hugs him, though his clothes are soaked and now hers are, too. He stills all over before shaking with silent sobs.

\---

Cass doesn't cook, and that is common knowledge. She can make tea, though, and that seems more than enough for Tim at the moment. He shivers, but that's really only from the profound cold that comes from being chilled to the bone by water. She wishes he had more clean shirts. Tim's hoodie and trousers are in the dryer she seldom uses. He's staring blankly at his cup and his entire posture says 'help me' while also saying 'I don't want to talk.'

She slides in next to him, a respectable distance apart, and waits for Tim's wariness to drop, then comes closer. She needs a distraction, something to tug him away from his restless thoughts. "Sorry this place is such a mess," she says, then smiles. "It's clean sometimes, I swear."

Tim chokes out the laugh caught in his throat and says 'thank you' with his shoulders, and 'I don't want to talk' with everything else. His skin is still cold and his hair is damp, even after he towel-dried it. Somewhere between his fourth and seventh sip, Cass notices him perk up, and start to say different things with his body. 'should I be here' and 'this place is messy'. 'I should clean it' and 'I missed you'. But still 'I don't want to talk about it', only this time there's also a 'not yet.'

By the time he's drained his cup, he's broadcasting waves of weariness. He's practically asleep when Cass tugs the cup out of his hands. She goes to look for a spare blanket, tossing all sorts of things out of the way before finding one. Tim's already curled up on her couch, small, bitter, 'leave me alone' humming along the lines of his body, and 'I'm sorry' buzzing behind his eyelids and 'please' trailing along his skin. Cass covers him with the blanket and goes to her own bed. There's a spare room, but Tim probably doesn't want to be moved right now. 

Cass sighs into her pillow and closes her eyes. She can wait.

\---

She wakes up when she hears the familiar sound of a vacuum whining away, and thinks of Alfred and clean clothes. Of course, then she remembers that Alfred is in Gotham City, on a different continent and remembers Tim-

She gets up and leaves the room, steps tentatively, though Tim probably wouldn't hear them over the din of the vacuum. She waits asides patiently as he finishes cleaning the carpets, and doesn't move when he jolts once he sees her.

"I--did I wake you up?" He asks.

"Good morning," Cass says.

Tim relaxes, the muscles in his back and right shoulder flexing, and he drags the vacuum aside. "Good morning to you, too." The stress in his back has returned, but it has more to do with nervousness and 'is this allowed' and 'I don't want to talk about it.' He opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it, and opens it again.

"Want me to make some tea?"

Cass smiles. "Sounds nice. Thanks,"

And the line in his back still asks 'is this allowed', until Cass grabs his elbow and says. "It's--I like. That you came to visit me." His face softens for that. Relief, but also--right. "I'm thinking of connecting the cameras with the TV, and I don't know how to do that." Because Tim would feel guilty unless he was needed.

"Okay, I'll take care of that for you."

"Mm. After breakfast."

"It's past noon, Cass,"

" _Late_ breakfast."

\---

Once Tim's in his element, his body stops broadcasting waves of unease, and starts showing the process with which Tim solves problems. The grove in his brow that was once just a thinking line when he was younger says 'I will get this right, I will', and his arms and sternum singing 'I have this, I can handle this', and his toes curling with secondary thoughts like 'what if this doesn't work, what do I do next, what's the next course of action?'

He's still saying 'I don't want to talk about it' but it's not as loud now.

He's very good at recognising when his feelings are bringing him down. Cass knows this, because every time she sees the _dip_ in his body, he fixes it before it becomes a problem. One year later, he'd gotten much better at hiding that dip. Lying about it. The year Cass couldn't track his progress- _couldn't_ track _anyone's_ progress-

She has an idea. She gets up off of her knees and leaves Tim to tinker with the wires in her TV. She wanders downstairs. She keeps the cave in a much better state than her apartment above, and there are a number of places she can stash things-

She only has one costume that isn't her own. No one really comes to visit her--but Tim had been over to give her back her Batgirl suit ("You have _family_." 'Please come home.') and he'd left it here, in case.

Cass wanders up the stairs, and back to the living room where Tim is frowning at the remote, changing channels until the front porch appears, and his entire set is that of accomplishment. He hesitates when Cass offers up his cowl.

"Patrol with me tonight?"

\---

After patrol, Tim is smiling with his entire body, even his mouth. Like something has worked out for him, for the first time in a long time. Cass realises that she had caught and held that _dip_ , that crack in his psyche. She'd held it and stopped it from dropping, and in Tim's present condition, that was the best she could do.

"Cass."

Though sometimes he still surprises her. Because the itch in his fingers says 'I have to do this' and he chews the inside of his cheek and _that_ , Cass knows, means 'I know you can see me, _really_ see me, and I'm ready to talk.' He slides off his cowl and runs a gloved hand through his hair. "I was wondering if I could stay for a couple more days?"

Cass nods. "Be nice to have company." she smiles.

"Thanks, Cass." Tim says, and his smile goes from happy to sickly so quickly that Cass starts shaking her head. He frowns curiously. "What?"

"Not--that." Cass struggles to find the words before saying. "We can talk." 

A dam breaks, and Tim's entire being floods with unsaid things. 'Regret' and 'lonely', and 'sorry' and 'help' among them, and Cass almost wishes she hadn't said anything because Tim's eyes start to water but he's also saying "Yeah," breathlessly, "Yeah, I need to,"

\---

Tim's morale has been low lately, and he knows that's an understatement, because Cass keeps giving him these looks. Looks that he remembers from when she wore a cowl, looks that were mostly questions, or indications to continue, that she was listening. It's certainly been a long while since he'd been prompted to speak, silently or otherwise.

So he speaks, and lets his tears fall, and lets pull him close and stroke his hair and sigh. He feels better than he has in a long while.

It doesn't feel like venting to a stranger, or burdening someone you haven't seen in a long while. Cass already knows what goes through his head, and she knows what to expect, and sometimes he forgets that. 

He slumps a little against her while she flicks through channels on her TV and runs her hand through his hair. He doesn't say 'thanks', because Cass hears it anyway. He closes his eyes and dozes.

In the middle of whatever Cass is watching, the screen turns blue, and blares the words 'INCOMING CALL...BATMAN'. Tim tenses and starts to rise, but Cass clamps her hand down on his shoulder and presses him back down against her.

"I'll deal with it." She says quietly, decisively. "Go back to sleep."


End file.
